


tell me how to take flight

by apollofastingdionysusdrunk (orphan_account)



Series: End Up Here [1]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Beaches, Fluff, M/M, Revolutionaries In Love, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, i bluffed my way through the greek, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2014-09-20
Packaged: 2018-02-18 02:39:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2332262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/apollofastingdionysusdrunk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘’I have no time for love. Not romance, at least.’’</p><p>That was the last thing Enjolras had said to him, those ten words resounding themselves like the beats of a drum. In his mind, he was ferociously beautiful, his twenty years still looked to be seventeen, especially emphasized by the youthful brightness flickering from his form, attracting the people to him like moths being drawn to the light. Who wouldn’t want to be near him? That stubborn strength, that fearless pride - it was a privilege just to be with him, to hold him, to kiss him. His hair poured with the light of the evening, his eyes were always unwavering, blue flecked with gold, and Grantaire could not escape emotion. When he was with women, his mind turned to Enjolras. When he was with men, his mind turned to Enjolras. His soul was drawn to him, entwined around the words from the idealist, trying to brighten that of a cynic’s.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tell me how to take flight

‘’I have no time for love. Not romance, at least.’’

That was the last thing Enjolras had said to him, those ten words resounding themselves like the beats of a drum. In his mind, he was ferociously beautiful, his twenty years still looked to be seventeen, especially emphasized by the youthful brightness flickering from his form, attracting the people to him like moths being drawn to the light. Who wouldn’t want to be near him? That stubborn strength, that fearless pride - it was a privilege just to be with him, to hold him, to kiss him. His hair poured with the light of the evening, his eyes were always unwavering, blue flecked with gold, and Grantaire could not escape emotion. When he was with women, his mind turned to Enjolras. When he was with men, his mind turned to Enjolras. His soul was drawn to him, entwined around the words from the idealist, trying to brighten that of a cynic’s.

His phone rang. He quickly answered it when he saw Enjolras called, a wild rapping in his chest never stopping like the butterflies in the cage of his mind. It has been a while since they last been together; well, not actually together. Grantaire was unable to pinpoint exactly what they were. He fancied the idea of them being boyfriends, but Enjolras had drawn the line clear on that one already. So they were friends, friends who have sex with each other, sometimes hold hands and make out in private and in public, but hey, no biggie!

‘’Hey, Apollo,’’ Grantaire chirped. ‘’Glad you called. How have you been?’’

‘’R, you need to get me out of here,’’ Enjolras’ voice was uncharacteristically panicked. Grantaire grinned. ‘’My flatmate, Montparnasse, you met him before, is throwing this party and parties where its occupants vomit on the floor and throw alcohol bottles in the living room aren’t really my thing...’’ 

He played at being hard to get. ‘’You have your own car.’’ 

‘’Uh, Feuilly’s got damaged, so he borrowed it to his afternoon classes. Get over here.’’

‘’I’ll be right there.’’

Grantaire took a quick shower, not wanting to appear sweaty and disheveled after his boxing class with Bahorel. Then he swiftly rushed into his bentley and drove to Montparnasse and Enjolras’ flat. Already, he saw the beginnings of the party - cars were lined up all over the street, rowdy teenagers rushing up to the door with beer bottles in their hands. Enjolras was waiting for him in the driveway, appearing to be relieved when he saw the familiar sight of Grantaire’s car. Of course, they have taken a few road trips and there have been enough times where Enjolras would sneak in for some backseat fun. But other than that, his face was rather apathetic and tense as he opened the car door and took shotgun. 

Only after they were a few blocks from the flat did the tension evaporate, and Enjolras’ posture became more relaxed. ‘’Thanks, R,’’ Enjolras said, flashing him a winner’s smile. Grantaire felt happy that it was he who Enjolras called, and not Combeferre or Courfeyrac. But then again, those two might have been too busy with the other. 

‘’Everything alright? We haven’t talked in awhile.’’ He hated sounding desperate. Someone like Enjolras would have more exciting, productive things to do with his time. Grantaire was just a choice in the form of a naked body and warm kisses. Granted, he wasn’t a damsel in distress sitting by the phone, waiting for Enjolras to call. He still had his portion of ego and wit and friends like Joly, Bossuet, Bahorel, Feuilly, Jehan, and Eponine. But Enjolras was too important to him; he blossomed and shone beneath his gaze like a flower to the brilliant sunlight.

‘’Yes!’’ came the impatient response, ‘’I’m just sick of living with him, that’s all. Perhaps I’ll move, go apartment-hunting or something. I feel like one day the police will turn up at the door and arrest me at an unlikely time, and when I deny I never committed a lethal crime they’d find a dead body in the closet. I really don’t trust Montparnasse.’’ 

Grantaire snorted, ‘’Yeah, doesn’t look like the most trustworthy of guys. Had a fine ass on him, though. Does he kill?’’

‘’I’m pretty sure he has been involved in illegal activity of some kind,’’ Enjolras scowled.

‘’You can always move in with me,’’ Grantaire said, shooting him an amorous look. Under that look, there was insecurity. 

Grantaire expected Enjolras to brush it off, but instead, to his delight, he looked tempted. ‘’Well,’’ he started, ‘’I wouldn’t want to move back to ‘Ferre’s place. I’ll let Courf and him have their space, they’ve dealt with me enough times already.’’ He gave a humourless laugh, running his fingers through his blond hair. 

‘’They’re your best friends, they’ll willingly deal with you.’’ 

‘’They need their privacy, and it’s been a long time since I’ve seen Combeferre so in love. So there’s that.’’ 

After stopping to refuel, Grantaire cranked up the music, his favourite Blink-182 album, as he headed south. Enjolras was quiet, seeming to be lost in his maze of thoughts as always, but occasionally he would turn down the volume and ask where they were going. Grantaire only smirked and turned the music back up. Enjolras smiled at that, he knew he loved it when Grantaire gets all mysterious. After half an hour of exceeding the speed limit, they were traveling through a landscape of water and palm trees. 

‘’Romantic,’’ Enjolras raised his eyebrows.  
‘’Honey, if you want a date, you could have just said so.’’ 

Enjolras actually blushed. ‘’Don’t be silly. So where are you taking me?’’

‘’Baie d'Audierne,’’ Grantaire answered. They were now crossing the two-mile-long causeway,  
a vast expanse of road that spanned to the large body of the water below. It was quite a hot tourist attraction, so they clearly weren’t going to have the beach for themselves. The stars were shining favourably down on them that day, and Grantaire nearly sent them to their deaths, too lost in the high colour of Enjolras’ cheeks, the sweet sky in his eyes. Once past the coast of Penmarc and the Pointe de la Torche, they saw a chuck lined a trail of pebbles with a hinterland of dunes and ponds. Enjolras sat up, looking more enthusiastic. Once the car was parked, they left it and walked to the sand for a better view of the sea. 

While tourist season was waiting to die down, they managed to find an area unpolluted by sunbathers. The sky changed its colour to a tropical orange as the sun made way of its grand descent, seagulls calling out to each other above the sea. Enjolras, surprisingly, reached for his hand and Grantaire did not hesitate to hold it. A cute, affectionate Enjolras was as rare as an angry Combeferre or suave Marius or selfish Feuilly or lucky Bossuet. This is how Grantaire imagined them: hands touching, side by side, in their own little bubble of salvation. 

‘’I love beaches,’’ Grantaire said. ‘’When I was in Texas, my mum had to take me to Galveston daily.’’ Though Grantaire was half-Latino, half-Greek, he was glad that he and his mum moved countries a lot in his childhood. She was a businesswoman of beauty products, so she obtained a lot of wealth behind her, and that seemed enough to cope with her loneliness. 

‘’You’re lucky,’’ Enjolras commented, sounding envious. ‘’I wish my family would have taken me to different places when I was small. I could have seen it all, but now I have to pay for my college tuition.’’ 

‘’But you’re from a rich political family,’’ Grantaire mused. ‘’I thought you would travel a lot with your parents.’’ 

‘’Not much. I was a mistake, you know, they were keen on having a childless marriage so they could repeat their youth or whatever. They care about me - or moreover, the idea of me, until I ruined it by coming out and all my political ideals are opposed to theirs - but they love each other much more, and leaving me back at the mansion in Paris was a common decision while they take trips on their own.’’ He paused. ‘’Where were you originally from, anyway? You never told me.’’ 

‘’Mexico City. It’s beautiful and artistic, so it was like a wonderland to me as a kid. No cookie-cutter suburbs and strip malls, everything was so diverse. You should see the more modern buildings.’’

‘’Maybe you should take me then,’’ Enjolras said softly. But he grinned when their eyes meet. ‘’You’re studying architecture, right?’’

Grantaire shrugged. ‘’Yeah, but I like painting better because there’s absolutely no limitation to my imagination.’’ 

‘’Painting suits you. I would never have guessed you’re an artist, not until you took me to your studio.’’ 

Grantaire smiled wryly, ‘’I guess I look like the sorta guy who didn’t do anything with his life before he opened a bottle of absinthe.’’ 

‘’I hate your drinking habits, but I hate it even more when you reduce yourself to only that. You’re more than alcohol.’’ Yup, there it was, the passionate anger that once stunned Grantaire into belief. ‘’So start acting like it, promise me that you’ll be okay. You’re more than this, I know you are.’’ 

‘’You don’t understand. For you it’s different, you’ve always brought out the good in me. Or else I would’ve hurled my hurt back at the world, even more so than I’ve done already. It’s easy for you, to believe, and I believe in you. I’m nothing without you, Apollo.’’ 

Enjolras patiently shook his head. ‘’You think I bring out the good in you, but all those good things? They’re already there, and it’s high time you realise that. Don’t go back to drinking or drugs, you need none of it. You’re such a beautiful person, R, inside and out, and there’s a world out here waiting to see you - the real you. You’re intelligent and charismatic, all those philosophical rants you spewed while drunk are philosophy that haven’t been written on paper. You’re confident and friendly, you get along with anyone so easily and we all appreciate your wit and humour. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t like it when you defy almost every word I say, but you struck something personal inside me and I don’t know how that happened to be.’’

‘’Do you love me?’’

The question seemed to surprise him. ‘’Grantaire...’’

‘’Just answer the question. I want to know.’’ 

‘’I don’t have a clue, but now I want you more than anyone I’ve ever seen, held, kissed.’’ His hand reached out to tame a strand of black hair that stuck out behind Grantaire’s ear. ‘’Have I ever told you I find your hair adorable?’’ Grantaire shook his head, and grinned. ‘’What about your hands?’’ he clasped them in the warmth of his own. ‘’Your eyes? They’re the clearest shade of green.’’ His face turned stoic and serious. ‘’I hate the shadows under them and the sound of your coughs and your voice when you get intoxicated, but I can’t take the imaginative, curious artist without taking the cynic. I guess that’s love.’’ 

Then he bended forwards to capture Grantaire’s lips between his. 

Grantaire took a deep breath. ‘’But you’re gorgeous and I’m hideous.’’ 

‘’You mean, you think you’re hideous because you don’t live up to society’s expectations. I don’t think you should complain.’’

‘’You just gave me a reason to complain about,’’ Grantaire laughed. 

‘’But really, I don’t think you should. Of how you look.’’ His voice was fierce and determined. 

‘’So what’s it going to be? You said you have no room for romance when you’re busy with social activism. I’d move heaven and earth for you, Enjolras, but I can’t be kept a secret, and I can’t go on not knowing if there’s any hope for us."

‘’Jesus, Augustus!’’ He sniggered at the use of Grantaire’s unspoken first name. ‘’You dragged me out of my shell and had me confessing all my love to you on the beach as the sun sets as if we’re in some kind of teen romance movie,’’ he forced away a smile. ‘’And now you want to be my lover?’’

Grantaire batted his eyelashes. ‘’Forget Patria for a minute. Patroclus has his charms too!’’

Enjolras blushed in such a cute way Grantaire almost cooed. ‘’And I suppose I’m Achilles. That was pretentious, but I like it.’’

‘’I feel like we have some kind of connection,’’ Grantaire started. He cringed, because it was weird openly stating his feelings out in the open and because it’s one of those lines he never thought would come from his own mouth. ‘’Ugh, that sounded too cheesy, but I’m never going to escape the Achilles and Patroclus comparison anyway. I’m in love with you.’’ His eyes danced, stepping closer so their hips were pressed close. Dusk pressed around them, wind ruffling their hair as if in an affectionate manner. ‘’Enjolras Lamarque, I’m in love with you!’’ 

‘’I’m in love with you too,’’ he echoed. ‘’When I said I want you to take me to Mexico City, I do mean it. Not now, though, with finals coming soon. Obviously, if you don’t want to, then it’s okay...’’

‘’Enjolras, I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.’’

‘’Really?’’ His new boyfriend’s (boyfriend! Enjolras was his boyfriend!) voice was so hopeful that Grantaire chuckled. ‘’Hey, my Patroclus can speak Greek, right?’’ 

‘’I’m half-Greek, you idiot.’’ 

‘’Say something to me in Greek then.’’ 

‘’Hmm, what do you want to hear?’’ 

‘’That would give it away,’’ Enjolras rolled his eyes. Grantaire considered giving him a macaroni recipe, but settled with, ‘’να μου πει πώς να πάρει πτήση, έτσι δεν έχω να διορθώσετε τα μάτια μου στον ουρανό πια.’’

‘’So, what did you just say to me then?’’ Enjolras asked.

‘’Tell me how to take flight, so I don’t have to fix my eyes on the sky anymore.’’ He scratched his neck, ‘’Uh, my bad poetry is to blame. I can’t believe I wasted a weekend listening to The Cure to write love poems in my bedroom.’’ 

Enjolras chuckled. ‘’Wow.’’

‘’I know.’’ 

The sun is setting over the crashing waves, spillings its colours onto the water’s surface. There was a brief silence, as the two men stared at each other with an identical expression akin to love and yearning, their hands barely making contact. The dying light rolled into Enjolras’ hair, his face shadowed by the evening that made him look even younger. Over their heads the gulls screamed and wheeled. Grantaire licked this moment off his lips, certain he will treasure it forever in his heart. 

‘’So now, what do we do?’’ he asked.

‘’Now? Now we start over.’’

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a critic! It would mean a lot x


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